


A Wand, Made of Bone

by MykEsprit



Series: Dramione Delectables [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Consultant Draco Malfoy, Curse Breaker Hermione Granger, F/M, HP Horror Fest 2018, Horror, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14209128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit
Summary: Break into the temple and collect the wand; that is their objective.  For artifact hunters Draco and Hermione, the assignment quickly turns deadly as they face dark magic that has lain dormant for thousands of years.





	A Wand, Made of Bone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HP Horror Fest 2018.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all its lovely characters are not mine.

The area surrounding the Temple of Qetesh looks like a sample of spectators camping for the Quidditch World Cup.  Colorful tents outline the temple ruins in a jagged square, some even decorated with flags of their country of origin.  Campfires dot between these tents, illuminating the laughing figures that gather around them.

Scrappy, bearded men and a few rough-looking women are raucously hollering, spinning tales of their latest conquests to procure dangerous artifacts hidden the world over.

“This place is a bloody circus,” I mumble under my breath as I scrutinize the boisterous crowd.

I hear a loud snort to my right.  “You’re such a sourpuss,” Hermione says, as she surveys the group with interest.  “Oh!  I think I see Jon!”

She leaves my side without another word, and I follow behind at a slower pace.  As she walks ahead of me, I run my eyes leisurely over her lissome figure.  She wears her thick curls in a neat plait when she’s on assignment, like on this evening, and it hangs to just above the small of her back.  The forest green T-shirt hugs her shoulders and upper arms, hinting at the lean, toned muscles underneath.  Almost as toned as her heart-shaped ass, which, tonight, is clad in a pair of dark brown leather pants, spelled to be comfortable at any temperature.

I thank Merlin every day that my chosen career includes the benefit of watching Hermione flounce about at work in tight leather pants.

“Hermione!  Draco!” I hear a friendly voice call out from the throng of Hunters, and I hasten my stride to catch up to Hermione’s side.

“Hi, Jon!” she greets him warmly.  She leans in to give Jon a quick hug.  “Big crowd tonight, isn’t it?”

“You know how it goes with these timed wards,” Jon says, as they pull away from each other.  “They come down for a few hours every thousand years, and Hunters come lining up like it’s a fucking iPhone launch.”

The two Muggleborns laugh at their inside joke.  I clear my throat and stick out a hand in greeting.  “Jon.”

He shakes my hand enthusiastically.  “How goes it, Draco?  Are you two looking for any particular loot in there, or you just going to grab whatever strikes your fancy?”

I give him a well-practiced, enigmatic smile.  “The Headmaster has an item he’s interested in obtaining.”

“I bet!  I don’t have a buyer lined up, but I’m hoping that there are a few things in there that are worth a pretty Galleon,” Jon says unreservedly.  He looks around for possible eavesdroppers and lowers his voice as he continues, “I hear there’s a wand stored in that temple.  Mighty powerful one, too.  Y’all hear the rumor?”

Hermione leans in and puts a hand on Jon’s dark orange jacket to pull him closer.  “Yes,” she says, very quietly.  “The Iumeri Wand.  It’s believed to have been fashioned from the radial bone of Iumeri, a wizard and prophet of the Fifth Dynasty.”

I roll my eyes.  “Great job, Granger.  Let’s just take out an advert, shall we?”

She arches an eyebrow at me.  “It’s _Jon_.  He won’t spread this information around.”

Jon displays his palms up in a gracious show of surrender.  “Don’t worry, Draco.  I’m here for a tablet that supposedly holds the story of Qetesh’s arrival in Egypt.  I won’t be going for the wand.  Not that I’ll stand a chance against the illustrious team of Hunters Malfoy and Granger.”

“ _Granger_ and Malfoy,” she corrects him, impishly.  She pokes an elbow into Jon’s rib playfully.  “Curse-Breakers should always get the top billing.  I do all the hard work.  All  _he_ does is talk.”

“I _consult_ ,” I say waspishly. 

The two of them continue speaking in hushed tones about other artifacts that may be hidden in the annex of the ruins, and I tune them out as I appraise the competition.

There are some familiar faces, ones I’ve seen around the academic circuit.  They, like me, work as professors and researchers in prestigious universities by day and moonlight as consultants for wealthy collectors in their free time.

The unruly and grubby-looking ones, I assume, are Curse-Breakers.  Perhaps Hermione knows some of them, but I’m not interested enough to ask her.

As the last of the sun’s rays finally give way to the night, the crowd starts to hush.  Slowly, they make their way to their individual tents, gathering supplies and finalizing plans within their team.

I spare a nod farewell to Jon as I pull Hermione to the side.

“Are you ready, Granger?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says confidently.  “Once the main ward around the temple comes down, we’ll go straightaway to the annex.  Leave the knickknacks in the antechamber to the amateurs.”

I bob my head once in agreement.  “According to the lore, the wand should be stored in the central dais of the annex.  There’s bound to be heavy wards protecting it and the annex itself.”

“Don’t worry that pretty head of yours,” she says with a wink.  “I’ll get us into that chamber.  You grab us the artifact.  As usual.”

“As usual,” I repeat as airily as possible, but there’s something unpleasantly familiar in the atmosphere that makes my stomach twist in knots.

Dark magic.  A lot of it.  It grows stronger as the ward around the temple starts to vibrate.

I take her left hand in my right one, keeping a firm grip.  “In and out, Granger.  I don’t want us to stay in there longer than absolutely necessary.”

She squeezes my hand in understanding; perhaps, she can also sense the wrongness that hangs thick in the air.  The magical disturbance radiating from the ward suddenly swells, and I feel the fine hairs on my forearm stand straight.

“Almost time,” she says quietly.

Suddenly, a wave of energy passes through the crowd as the ward breaks.  Stale wind rushes past our faces, as if the temple had been preserved in a bubble of pressurized air.

I glance at Hermione.  “Let’s go,” I say, and we run to the entrance of the temple with our wands out.

ooOOoo

The large antechamber is filled with gold statues, and it bodes as a good sign that the temple has remained undisturbed. The treasure inside retains its shine even though it has been stored in an underground chamber for thousands of years.  I suspect that they remain so due to magic, but I’m not afforded the time to find out.

Predictably, most of the Hunters go for the gleaming treasure; the more experienced ones, however, know that the most valuable objects are hidden in the annex of these ancient Egyptian temples.  Hermione and I head there unobtrusively.

We meet less than a dozen of the seasoned Hunters at the sealed entrance of the chamber.  Jon is there, as well, with his wand pointed at the door, already working on breaking down the strong ward.

It takes five of the present Curse-Breakers a few minutes to take down the magical barrier.  Our surroundings rumble in protest as the ward dissipates.

“Head to the dais,” I remind Hermione in a hurried whisper.

Inside, there are great plunders: figurines and amulets that emanate very strong, very dark magic.  Many of the Hunters spread out to the perimeter to gather their spoils.

Hermione and I run to the center of the room, where a tall pedestal displays a thin rod, chalk-white except in the small, blackened fissures bordering the handle.  I continue to sprint for the wand.

“Draco!  Stop!” I hear Hermione yell, and I immediately halt.

A light shoots out from her wand, and it instantly meets with another ward that protects the dais.  Hermione begins to counteract the magic with complicated wand movements.

I see Jon sidle next to her, and I give him a suspicious glance.

“The tablet is on the pedestal,” he says, nudging his chin in the direction of his intended target.  I observe the pedestal again, and I notice the thick, gray stone propped underneath the wand.

I spy another Hunter eyeing the Iumeri Wand and pacing surreptitiously around the perimeter of the dais, waiting for Hermione and Jon to finish breaking the ward.  Annoyed at his impudence, I tense my body, ready to spring to action the second the barrier is down.

The chamber shakes and groans when my obstacle is obliterated, and I dash to the pedestal in the center of the platform.  As my fingers curl around the shaft of the wand, a strong pulse of magic emanates from the bottom edges of the dais, sending everything outside the safety of the platform flying out to the sides of the room. 

I turn my head in time to watch as Hermione is thrown to the far wall of the annex.

“Granger!” I yell out, and I run toward her. 

The room is now violently shaking, and large sections of the ceiling start falling around me.  I try to race to her side, but I quickly lose sight of her in the tumbling debris.

I dodge a large column as it topples over in my path.  My vision starts to fade as I run.

The last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is a high-pitched, soul-piercing scream.

ooOOoo

“Draco,” I hear through cotton-filled ears.  I feel someone shaking me awake, and I blearily open my eyes.

I focus my hazy vision on the face peering down on me with concern.

“Jon?” I ask numbly.

He releases a sigh of relief.  “Thank Merlin,” he says.  “I thought you might have been done for.”

“What happened?” I ask, as I look around at the devastated chamber.  Clouds of brown dust hang in the air and mounds of rock litter the annex floor.

I hear a soft groan nearby, and I turn my head to see the Hunter who was encroaching the dais earlier.  He is lying face-up on the ground, and he looks to be drifting in and out of consciousness. 

Jon walks over to the injured man, and I sluggishly get up, assessing my own body.  I run a hand over my scalp, and I find neither bump nor open wound.  I stretch, and I feel a deep ache that runs through the muscles of my limbs all the way to the center of my bones. 

I stagger over to the other men, and I fall to my knees when I reach them, the remains of my energy utterly spent within the short distance.

As we look down at the Hunter, he lifts his eyelids and gazes up at us.  His eyes suddenly glaze with panic.  Then, he produces an ear-splitting scream.

“Fuck!” Jon says.  He quickly flicks a white wand at the Hunter and murmurs what seem to be diagnostic spells.

I eye the wand in his hand.  “Why do you have the Iumeri Wand?” I ask, still fighting through the fog in my mind.

“My wand broke when the ceiling collapsed,” he says impatiently, using the wand to force wisps of white smoke from the chest of the still-screeching Hunter.  “I’ll give it back to you when we get out of here.  Right now, this guy’s suffering from whatever curse you unleashed when you took this wand off the pedestal.  So, unless you know how to perform ancient, advanced counter-curses, I suggest you shut the fuck up and let me do my job.”

I grip my hawthorn wand, which had somehow stayed in my grasp when I fell, tighter in my hand.  I know only the most basic of spells that Curse-Breakers use, so I let him continue working.

“What’s happening to him?” I ask dazedly.  The deafening shrieks become more subdued as white smoke continues to stream out of him and into the wand in Jon’s hand.

“I don’t know the exact curse that’s affecting him,” Jon admits tersely, his brows furrowing in concentration.  “Seems like something that might be messing with his mind.  Making him feel a lot of pain.  I’m trying to stop the curse from completely taking over.”

The Hunter’s cries become soft mewling, and, when I peer into his eyes, I see them stare out, unfocused.  I feel my muscles tense and roar to life, as if they are suddenly doused with adrenaline.

The cries stop, and the Hunter’s gaze is glassy, lifeless.

“The curse was too strong,” I hear Jon say dejectedly.  “I couldn’t stop it.  It was already too late to counter it.”

I reach over and close the Hunter’s vacant eyes.

“We better get out of here,” Jon says urgently, noting the exposed bedrock above us.  “It’s too dangerous to be in this chamber.  The rest of that ceiling might collapse at any second.”

I jump up hastily when I remember the last I saw of Hermione.  I quickly dash to the far end of the room. 

“Granger!” I yell.  “Granger!”  I am met by a wall of rubble that blocks off the rest of the annex, and I pray that she’s on the other side of it, unharmed.

Jon lays an insistent hand on my shoulder and shakes me firmly.  “Draco, we’ve got to go.  If the rest of the ceiling goes down – if we’re lucky, we only get crushed to death.  If we’re not, then we’ll be trapped here, and we’ll die slowly from thirst and starvation.”

Rage from deep inside my chest viciously bubbles over as I grab the front of Jon’s orange jacket and pull him toward me.

“Listen, fuckwit,” I spit in his face.  “My wife is on the other side of this rubble, and you’re going to help me get her out, or I’ll fucking bury you in here myself!”

I see understanding flood his eyes, and he holds his hands up in surrender.  “All right!  I’ll help you get your wife.  But we’ve got to do it quick.”

I release him, and we quickly set our wands to work on clearing a path through the wreckage.

ooOOoo

After what feels like an eternity, we finally clear enough space for us to crawl through the debris.

“ _Lumos_ _maxima_ ,” I murmur, and a harsh white light illuminates the sectioned portion of the annex.  My eyes sweep the room, and I immediately spot her sprawled on the ground, half-hidden by the shadow of a large pile of rocks next to her.

“Fuck!” I bellow, and I run to her, with Jon following behind me.

I kneel over Hermione and put two fingers to the side of her throat.  I almost sag with relief when I feel faint pulsing on my fingertips.

I move to Levitate her, but Jon holds out a hand in protest.

“Wait, Draco,” he says.  “She was probably hit with the curse, too.  I need to work on countering it _right now_ , before it takes hold of her like it did for that Hunter.  Before it’s too late.”

I nod and set her back down on the ground.  Jon quickly works on Hermione, pointing the white wand at her torso and muttering a string of spells under his breath.

Hermione starts to stir, and she slowly flutters her eyelids.  She looks up to meet my worried gaze, and I watch as sheer panic bleeds into her eyes.

“It’s all right, love,” I say, willing her to stay calm.  “Jon’s working on the counter curse to make you better.  It’ll be over soon.”

Her mouth opens in a silent scream, and fear grips my chest.

I turn to my companion and roar, “Hurry up, Jon!”

I glance back down at Hermione, whose eyes were darting back and forth, searching frantically around us.

“Jon’s doing the best he can, love.  He’ll be done soon,” I say, trying to soothe her panic.

She gulps loudly.  “Sweetheart,” she says slowly in a forced, even tone, as if appeasing a rabid wild predator.  She points her gaze to the mound of boulders next to her.  “J-Jon.  Jon…”

My eyes follow her line of sight, and I see, jutting from underneath the large rocks, an arm of a dark orange jacket, and a hand hanging lifelessly from its sleeve.

I return my gaze to meet Hermione’s terrified eyes, and I feel the cold sensation of dread spreading from the center of my chest.

“Draco,” she whispers.  “Put the wand down.  _Please_.”

I look down at my hand.  My hawthorn wand is no longer in my grasp; perhaps it never was.  The bone-white wand grips onto my fingers like a strong magnet.  It is pointed at my wife’s heart.

“Draco,” I hear Hermione plead, and my eyes settle on her face, tears now staining her dust-covered cheeks.

I feel a presence behind me; not Jon.  Terror freezes my limbs as I feel long, bony fingers cage the top of my head.  I feel sharp claws sink into the bones of my skull like a knife through soft butter.

The last thing I register is the sound of Hermione’s deafening scream.

ooOOoo

I am wrapped in darkness.  I can no longer see Hermione’s terrified eyes, nor hear her frightened shrieks.  I cannot feel the rough, ragged stone under my knees while I stoop over her prone body.

I can only feel the wand, its anchor lodged deep in my soul.

“Did you hurt her?” I think into the void.  “Don’t hurt her.  _Don’t hurt her_.”

 _I have need of her_ , I feel the words pass through my mind.

“Fuck!  You already have me!  Leave her alone!”

_I need her.  I need you both._

I try to calm my mind enough to think; it is the only thing I have left, in my control.

“What do you want from us?” I think.

_I need you, so I can walk this earth once again._

“Then use me.  But leave her be,” I think, and add beseechingly, “Please.”

_My magic now runs through yours.  Your magic intimately knows that of your wife's.  It is the strong connection that I need, to bring my love back into this world._

“Please,” I think, helplessly.  “Please don’t hurt her.  Please don’t hurt her.”  It becomes my new mantra; I repeat it in my head over and over.

The wand no longer responds with words.  Instead, I feel a tight coiling of its magic around my soul.

ooOOoo

When I see through my eyes again, I am already standing.

Hermione stands poised in front of me.  Her hair is unbound, her large brown curls flowing down past her shoulders and chest.  She looks at me in a way she has never done in the seventeen years that I’ve known her: assessing and coldly detached, like a queen looking down on her subject.

“My goddess,” I hear my voice say in an extolling tone.  “My love.”

She smiles down at me imperiously.

“You’ve finally brought me back, Iumeri,” she says, in a voice regal and amplified.  “After so long.  Although, I should punish you for your past incompetence.”

My back bends forward in a deep bow.  “My goddess Qetesh.  Have mercy,” my mouth says.

“Stand up,” she orders.  “We have much to do.  It is time for me to get what I want.”

My spine straightens, and my voice says, “What can this humble servant do for you, goddess?”

Hermione’s face takes on an unnatural, rapacious smile.  “Deliver to me what you have promised.”

She floats out of the chamber, and my legs move to follow her out into the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I’m so tempted to write a companion piece for this story, as it is such an inspiring prompt – all thanks to Darventravos for submitting it!
> 
> A HUGE THANK YOU to moderators Writcraft and heyitsamorette for your support and handholding through my first fest! I’m so ecstatic to be part of this!
> 
> Last, but not least, a tip of the hat to my beta fangirlsanity, whose stories you need to check out!
> 
> Prompt: a cursed wand made from the bones of a dark wizard long ago(like from Egyptian times) is found in an ancient tomb. The user gets possessed by the soul of the dark wizard and that person begins a ritual to resurrect a dark god.  
> Suggested Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dramione. Hermione is a curse breaker and Draco is a consultant who get possessed.  
> Submitted By: Darventravos


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